Lady Amelia's Mess and a Half (24 page)

“No, please.” She grasped his hand with both of hers. “Don’t risk your life for me. I’m to blame as much as he is. I shouldn’t have teased him. I shouldn’t have accepted the drink.”

Jasper knelt before her and took her face between his hands. “You are not to blame. Banner rendered you almost unconscious. He took advantage of your incapacitation.”

“Be that as it may, it would be foolish for you to challenge your kin to protect my honor.” She had no honor any longer. She hadn’t for a long time.

“Stop it.”

She met his steely gaze. “Tell me what it is I should stop and I’ll do it.”

“Stop implying you are nothing to me,” he ground out. “You’ve never been
nothing
.”

What could she possibly mean to him? She had become his lover, perhaps his mistress, but given his convictions, they had no future once he took a wife. A sharp pain seared her heart. She hadn’t entered this affair with any expectations for commitment, and if she had, tonight would have shattered her hopes. No gentleman would desire a wife like her.

“It has been a long evening,” she said. “May we please forgo this conversation?”

Jasper dropped his hands from her face with a loud sigh. “For the moment, we shall postpone our discussion.” He stood and urged her to her feet. “Shall we make our way to the bedchamber? I grow weary for bed.”

Bibi suppressed a gasp. “Yes. Of course.”

She had expected him to walk away from her tonight.

Jasper placed his hand on the small of her back as they climbed the stairs. “Are you certain he didn’t hurt you, my dear?”

Love for her darling earl swelled within her chest. “I’m fit enough for now.” That is until he would end their association and trample her heart.

Amelia grasped her horse’s reins tighter as Clarabelle pranced and tossed her mane as if preening for the two stallions that flanked her sides.

“Whoa.” A firm voice and strong hand proved useful in settling her mare. Soon Clarabelle walked serenely beside her companions along Rotten Row.

“You handle your horse well, Lady Audley,” Mr. Tucker said with admiration in his voice. Americans were oddly transparent; everything they felt announced in their expressions, everything they thought spoken aloud.

She smiled with polite detachment. “Thank you, sir.”

“Lady Audley has always been an excellent equestrian,” Jake said.

He grinned, his white teeth shining like pearls, as if Mr. Tucker had paid him the compliment. Good heavens, how she’d love to drag Jake back to Verona House and snuggle under the counterpane again.

Amelia’s cheeks heated at the shameful direction her thoughts traveled, and she dropped her eyes to the reins in her hands. She had become as wanton as Bibi, allowing Jake to stay the night. But who could fault her? Jake Hillary was handsome, passionate, and considerate.

She had been pleasantly surprised when he’d insisted she join him and Mr. Tucker for a ride in the park this morning. Jake never treated her as if she were a nuisance, as the gentlemen of her past tended to do.

He winked at her, making her flush with pleasure. “A few years ago, Lady Audley challenged another gentleman and me to a race. You should have seen her.”

“Mr. Hillary, please.” Amelia had been a bit less refined as a young lady.

“I have always been puzzled by how she missed the boisterous protests of her chaperone,” Jake added. “But she seemed to hear nothing of the lady’s caterwauling, although all of Northamptonshire must have heard her. Was it the wind in your ears, my lady?”

Amelia chuckled at his teasing tone. She supposed she had been a handful for Aunt Chloe.

Mr. Tucker raised his eyebrows. “Do tell, my lady. What was the outcome of the race?”

“I cannot recall now,” she said with a shrug, not wishing to embarrass her betrothed.

Jake laughed, a hearty, heartwarming sound that sent tingles all the way to her fingertips. “Don’t allow her coyness to fool you, sir. She shamed us both.”

“Lot of good it did me,” she said. “Aunt Chloe whisked me away from the house party before I could savor my victory. And I received an impressive scolding for my unladylike behavior.” The entire journey home, to be precise.

“Ah, the trouble with chaperones,” Mr. Tucker commiserated. He glanced back over his shoulder before offering a cocky grin. “Of course, we have no one telling us how to behave today. What do you say to a rematch with Mr. Hillary? I could stand in for the other gentleman.”

Amelia smiled politely. “You Americans are sadly uninformed when it comes to the
ton
. Just look around. We have more people watching us now than ever. The gossips nearly swoon from holding their breath in anticipation of the newest scandal.”

“Is that the cause of all the swooning?” Mr. Tucker flashed a good-natured grin. “And you uptight English refer to us as silly.”

The gentleman really was a likable sort. He conversed on many topics with ease and possessed a good humor. She could understand Jake’s desire to further their acquaintance.

A rider entered the track ahead and stopped his horse, appearing to scan the area. As their party rode closer, Amelia recognized the gentleman as well as the tension in his rigid posture.

“It’s your brother-in-law,” she said softly to Jake. “Something is amiss.”

“Please excuse me a moment, Lady Audley. Mr. Tucker. I shan’t be long.” Jake tapped the sides of his roan stallion, riding ahead to reach Lord Andrew.

From the gentlemen’s expressions, one might never realize something was wrong, but Amelia had always been more in tune to others’ moods. She sensed disquiet in the air.

Jake turned his horse and met her and Mr. Tucker as they rode his direction. He eased his horse alongside Amelia’s to speak softly. “It seems Forest could use my assistance. It’s Lady Gabrielle. The groom lost her on the morning ride.”

“Oh, dear,” she whispered in return. “Your sister must be beside herself.”

Jake’s gaze landed on Mr. Tucker and he offered a pleasant smile. “Could I impose upon you to provide escort for Lady Audley, sir? I fear I have a family matter to attend to without delay.”

“It is no imposition, Hillary. Go about your duties. The lady will remain safe in my care.”

Jake tipped his hat. “I’ll return as quickly as I am able.”

Amelia worried her bottom lip as Jake rode away. Lana had enough to occupy her without adding concern for her husband’s sister to the list.

Mr. Tucker shifted in his saddle and adjusted his hat to cast a greater shadow over his face, blocking out the intense morning sun. “I’m beginning to understand the need for chaperones in this country,” he teased. “You English girls are a reckless bunch, but your secrets are safe with me.”

“I suppose you couldn’t help but to overhear. Allow me to caution you against forming an opinion on my story alone, sir.”

“Never, Lady Audley. I’m privy to other stories. I assure you I have formed my opinions based on
those
tales.”

“You must have a talent for compelling others to confess their reckless acts. How long have you been in England?”

“A few weeks, but I cannot pretend to have said talent. I have an acquaintance in New Orleans who recites anecdotal stories for entertainment. He is an English gentleman, nobility I suspect, although he has never admitted to it.”

Their horses continued a slow lope along Rotten Row, the warm sun now at their backs.

“Of course, I’m skeptical of his outlandish tales. They are always told with exaggerated flair, and only when he is foxed.”

Amelia smiled in encouragement, hoping he would choose to share one of these outlandish tales with her.

“He recounts a story about a house party, too. I do wish for the opportunity to attend one of these notorious soirees. They sound positively wicked.”

“That depends on the company you keep, Mr. Tucker.”

He chuckled. “I have no doubt which crowd I would gravitate toward. The wicked are much more entertaining.”

Having grown accustomed to Bibi’s frank talk, her escort’s lack of propriety didn’t offend Amelia. His manner emboldened her instead. “Tell me the story, Mr. Tucker. I’m beyond curious now.”

“At your insistence, my lady. My gentleman acquaintance tells this story about his wife.” Mr. Tucker scratched his head, nearly knocking his hat off before setting it to rights again. “Now that I think on it, he never has said what happened to her. I suppose he is a widower.” Mr. Tucker waved a hand in the air. “But his marital status has no bearing on the tale really. To hear him tell it, his wife was a young girl of thirteen, not yet old enough to participate in adult entertainments. Are you certain you aren’t easily offended, Lady Audley?”

“I assure you my sensibilities are not easily disturbed.”

Mr. Tucker nodded, his brow wrinkled with uncertainty. Nevertheless, he continued the tale. “The girl wasn’t old enough to take part in the festivities, but she was in residence. Her aunt and uncle planned a house party to celebrate Christmas. There was nothing debauched intended, I assure you.”

A slight sense of uneasiness churned in her belly, but she dismissed it as the effects of a disagreeable breakfast. As Mr. Tucker had mentioned earlier, England boasted many country parties. Surely more than one involved a thirteen-year-old girl visiting relatives during Michaelmas.

“Go on,” she urged.

“The day the party guests arrived at the manor, the girl’s female cousins stole into her chambers and took her dresses while she bathed.”

Amelia’s head spun slightly, and she gripped the reins tighter to steady herself in the saddle.

“My lady, are you unwell? You appear pale.”

“I-I’m fine, sir. Perhaps too warm is all.”

Mr. Tucker frowned. “Let’s rest in the shade.”

She followed him to a sprawling oak, the cooler shade making no difference in the fuzziness of her thoughts or rate of her heartbeat.

“Should I try to find something to drink?” he asked.

Amelia shook her head. “Really, I’m fine. Please, finish your story.”

A fine line formed between his brows as if he questioned the wisdom in continuing. “If you are certain you’re not easily offended, my lady,” he said at last. “Actually, the cousins didn’t leave her with
nothing
to wear. They had placed a maid’s uniform in her wardrobe.”

“Indeed?” She tried to force a swallow down her dry throat. Could there truly be two such similar occurrences in England?

“Oh, and I forgot to mention that the precocious duo sent the servant attending her away and informed all the other servants to ignore her call as they were engaged in a game of pretend.

“When the girl climbed from the tub without assistance—the servant didn’t answer her call, of course—she discovered her clothes were missing. She pulled the bellpull repeatedly, but no one ever came. Finding only the maid’s attire in her wardrobe, she knew the mischief-makers were her cousins. She was upset.”

Upset was an understatement. Amelia had been furious with her haughty contemporaries. “Did she put on the maid’s dress?”

Mr. Tucker chuckled. “I think you might see where this story is headed. Yes, she did don the outfit and marched from her chambers to find her cousins. She intended to give them a piece of her mind. Before she could locate them, an older maid, with some authority it seemed, waylaid her. She scolded the poor girl for her sloppy appearance then shoved linens in her arms and ordered her to prepare one of the chambers. The curmudgeon wouldn’t allow her to explain. She swatted her on the backside and pushed her toward the chambers.”

Amelia’s chin lifted. She was still indignant over the shabby treatment she had received from the servant.

“Not knowing what else to do, she hurried to follow the older woman’s orders. She completed the task, but before she could return to her own chambers, the woman snatched her and gave her another chore.” Mr. Tucker cocked his head. “Only I never understood how the older servant didn’t recognize the young woman.”

“She was hired special for the party.”

His eyes rounded. “You know this story?”

Did she know it? It was
her
story. One she had only ever repeated once, to her husband, but he’d obviously betrayed her confidence. That was the only explanation for some gentleman being in possession of her story.

“It’s a common practice. Mr. Tucker, who is it that told you this tale?”

“All is saved,” Jake called as he rode toward them.

Thank goodness, she didn’t have to endure the part of the story where the lecherous gentleman had attempted to become better acquainted with her in his guest chambers. Amelia had barely escaped unscathed, and then only because the overbearing maid had come to investigate what was taking her so long.

Once Jake reached Amelia’s side, he dismounted his horse then assisted her from Clarabelle. “Unless Lady Audley protests, I would like to walk Sinbad for a bit.”

She glanced at Mr. Tucker, desiring one more moment alone to ask him a few questions about his friend, but that wasn’t to happen.

The gentleman tipped his hat before gathering his horse’s reins. “Very good. I’ll take this opportunity to bid you both farewell. I depart for Edinburgh on the morrow and won’t return to Town for several weeks.”

No!
She had to speak with him before he disappeared. Where was it he was staying again? “Do you know your way back to the Clarendon, Mr. Tucker?”

Confusion flitted across his features. “I’m staying at the Pulteney, and I believe I can find my way back.”

“Indeed. What am I thinking?” Amelia shrugged as if self-conscious. “I suppose a world traveler would have no trouble finding his hotel.”

The gentleman offered a kind smile. “Your hospitality is much appreciated, all the same. Good day, Lady Audley, Mr. Hillary.”

With a jaunty wave, he urged his dappled gray into a trot and soon disappeared from the park.

Jake led both horses while Amelia walked beside him. “We needn’t walk the entire way,” he said. “I didn’t want to discuss Lady Gabrielle in Mr. Tucker’s presence.”

“I don’t mind walking.”

“Lord Ellis found Lady Gabrielle by the lake and kept her safe until her brother arrived. They are both fortunate no one saw them together, and Ellis is lucky Forest didn’t issue a challenge. He’s protective of his sister.”

“Thank goodness Lady Gabrielle was unharmed,” Amelia mumbled, knowing this was expected of her, but unable to focus on the girl’s narrow escape from ruin.

Jake sighed. “Lana is reported to be beside herself. Lady Gabrielle has been their guest for the last week, and Lana is holding herself responsible for granting permission for the outing with the groom.”

Amelia made the appropriate sounds and nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. What type of gentleman stole a story belonging to someone else and presented it as his own? Well, not his own, really, but that of his wife. She needed to speak to Mr. Tucker again to clear up the ridiculous notion that the story was about her. Surely, there were other details to set it apart from her experience, and if he’d had time to finish, her mind would be at ease.